


From Sky to Earth

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: All of Jughead's irritation is fake, Canon Compliant, Established Romantic Tension, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Get together fic, He's fake, Humor, I love him, also some UST not gonna lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 15:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10250375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Seven minutes in heaven strikes again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by nonny, "can you do Jughead/Veronica with "are you fucking kidding me" and "can I tell you a secret""
> 
> hope you like it!

The bottle stops spinning with a soft noise, the most delicate sound. It’s jarring compared to the music thudding along in the background; it’s gentle compared to the titters of laughter that start in the wake of the bottle’s direction.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jughead announces sourly. The laughter of his peers only grows louder. He rolls his eyes and wishes he’d gotten up to refill his drink before this stupid game had begun. Can’t turn back time now, he supposes, but that doesn’t diminish his pissy mood.

To her credit, Veronica doesn’t look offended. “The sooner you get in there, the sooner this is over with,” she tells him as she stands. Her dress, skin tight until the very hem which flares out around her bare thighs, rustles with the motion. There’s a crease across her lap that she doesn’t bother to smooth down. Without waiting for an answer, Veronica takes the familiar path from plush couch to roomy closet.

Cheryl is grinning like a cat that got the canary, and Jughead tells himself he leaps to his feet only to escape her predatory gaze. He follows a few feet behind Veronica, until they’re both in the closet and the door falls shut with a snap.

Toe to toe they stand: Jughead looking uncomfortable and Veronica looking bored.

At least two minutes pass before both their exteriors drop. Jughead sighs and shoots Ronnie a quick grin; in return, her arms fall from being cross to hang at her sides, and she ducks her head bashfully.

“Of all the gin joints, huh?” He asks quietly. He knows between the door and the music still blaring on the other side that they’re unlikely to be heard. Still, though, something about the moment calls for hushed tones.

She seems to agree. When Veronica replies, her tone is just as soft. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Jughead raises an eyebrow. “Sure?” He asks back.

His uncertainty pulls a laugh from her, not unkind but instead sort of a nervous cough. Veronica keeps her gaze focused on the floor, on her peep-toe kitten heels and his scuffed-up converse all-stars. The longer she goes without speaking, the more uneasy Jughead starts to feel. His palms are clammy and he tries to wipe them on his jeans surreptitiously.

Given that she giggles again, he knows he failed.

“I’ve always found…” Veronica starts, then trails off. “I’ve always found your amusingly cliché ‘bad boy’ look to be kind of hot.” The words come out in a rush after she’s apparently gotten her second wind. She even finally looks up at him, eyes defiant and bright in the amber glow of the dim closet light. She licks her lips, tongue running across the deep violet-red lipstick staining her skin.

Jughead can’t look away. When he replies, his voice is embarrassingly fractured. “Really?” He asks and flinches when his tone pitches on the second syllable. Suddenly he’s back in middle school, standing awkwardly in a closet with some girl whose name he can’t recall—instead of being a senior in high school, with some girl who thinks he’s _hot_. “Uh.”

Veronica shrugs. She seems calm and collected until she raises a hand to tuck hair behind her ear, and Jughead realizes she’s shaking. “Really.” She agrees as she looks away.

Emboldened by seeing his own nerves reflected once more in Veronica Lodge, Jughead can’t help but murmur to himself, _“fuck it.”_

He reaches out with calloused fingertips and cups her cheeks. He forces her to look at him again, and when her eyes drop to his own chapped lips, he can’t keep waiting. He kisses her softly. It’s sticky, tacky, the feeling of lipstick under his mouth, the faint fruity flavor it lends to the kiss.

She opens her mouth and Jughead follows suit; he knows he tastes like stale beer and she tastes like the margarita she’d sucked down less than twenty minutes ago. It’s not a great combination, but the sigh she lets out into his mouth—that he drinks in—makes it all worth it. The way her hands grapple with the front of his shirt and the way she steps closer so that their shoes bump, it’s why he can’t pull away.

Veronica’s hands flatten against his chest and one rests directly over his thudding heart. Jughead groans into the kiss and she mirrors the sound, presses closer, going up on the balls of her feet like she can’t get enough.

They pull away moments before the click of a doorknob turning echoes in the room. There’s not enough time to separate, to let go of each other, before the door is open and light is spilling into the closet. The laughter from before is replaced with a chorus of gasps, and even Reggie shouting “get it, Jonestown!”

Jughead gulps and forces himself to look away from Veronica. He doesn’t want to leave her, doesn’t want _her_ to leave either. But they can’t stay here and the unwavering stares of their classmates is starting to feel creepy, voyeuristic. He isn’t at all surprised when her hands drop from his chest and she takes him by the wrist instead. He isn’t at all surprised when she pulls him out of the closet with her head held high.

He’s a little surprised when she shoves him into her former spot on the couch, even more so when she perches daintily in his lap like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. All the same, he winds his arms around her waist easily and after a few beats of drawn out shock from the people around them, the game continues. Cheryl, ever the one to take something in stride, picks up the bottle and starts to strut around to choose the next victim.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers when they’re no longer the center of attention.

Veronica leans into him and hums curiously.

“I’ve always thought the super cliché ‘rich ice-queen with a heart of gold’ thing you’ve got going on is pretty hot.”

Her peals of laughter drag everyone’s attention back to them, but Jughead doesn’t mind.  


End file.
